WARNING: This is NOT the BEGINNING of “EVEREST & THE EXCEPTIONS.” To start at the beginning, go HERE.
Everest doesn’t love waiting at the crosswalk of the most visible corner of Franklin’s historic district while he and his brother are supposed to be dissecting either George Orwell or a pregnant frog, depending upon the class. He would feel exposed even without the onslaught of traffic noise and a dozen eavesdropped passerby conversations. The rain abated for the remainder of the 25-minute walk into town square and Everest feels that it’s now uncomfortably warm for a Tennessee October. Everest tugs at his t-shirt collar, struggling to breathe from the humidity.
Harrison senses Everest’s impending meltdown and unearths a bottle of aspirin from his backpack. “Here,” he tosses it to Everest, “for your migraine.” But, as Everest catches it with his bandaged hand, he winces. “Is that burn not healing?”
Everest quickly changes the subject, “No - it’s - just my head.”
As they wait for the light to change, Harrison urges Everest to dwell on something else, “You love Mother’s Talk. Focus on that.”
Everest practically panics, “Why? What did she say?!”
Harrison exhales with his eyes closed. Everest knows this means his brother loves him, but just can’t right now. Harrison coaxes with a more gentle tone, “The song, Everest - Mothers Talk. Tears for Fears. On the radio?”
His heart beating too fast, Everest notices the outdoor speakers in the courtyard. Sure enough, the tenor of Roland Orzabal sings his opinions about nuclear war set to a dance beat.
It's not that you're not good enough
It's just that we can make you better
Given that you pay the price
We can keep you young and tender
Following the footsteps of a funeral pyre
You were paid not to listen, now your house is on fire
Downcast, Everest moves Harrison’s hand off of his shoulder, “Sorry.”
Harrison urges Everest to breathe and, one detail at a time, slowly absorb their surroundings. There is a wine-colored notice in the library window about next week’s Fall Festival (too many people), cinema posters for The Color of Money and Top Gun (too much Tom Cruise), the Ice Cream Shoppe’s flavor of the month: Pumpkin Raisin (why?!) - finally, the light switches to WALK and they are able to make their way to Harrison’s favorite haunt: Radio Shack.
The signal bell attached to the top of the glass door chimes as Harrison swings it open, bursting in with familiarity and greeting the woman behind the counter with a boisterous “MAUDE!” Maude barely glances up from the microprocessor she is soldering, eyes half-mast, “Whaddayawant, Manning?” Harrison swiftly engages repartee as if he and this 62-year-old former U. S. Marine are the couple on Moonlighting, “It’s Mannings today, Maude - plural. This is my brother.” Maude doesn’t need to look up for the sarcasm to take effect, “No kidding.” Without skipping a beat, Harrison gingerly clunks the rabbit dog on the counter, “You can stop acting annoyed. We both know you adore me.” Everest often marvels at the force of nature known as his brother. He never quite understood how one could own a room so quickly. Harrison maneuvers complicated social situations with impressive ease and this makes Everest quite jealous. Life would be far more simple if Everest wasn’t required to engage with the world around him at all. Everest isn’t much for self-pity, but he does find the imbalance curious: why some would have immense capability in one quadrant of their personality while others experience a complete void. Everest realizes he is using words like quadrant and void and he grimaces, his thoughts reinforcing Harrison’s previous point. At least he would be comfortable disappearing into the world with Harrison at his side, doing the social heavy-lifting for him. Everest flushes a bit red every time Maude so much as glances at him. He is relieved when her attention falls fully on the contraption.
“Did you build this?” she asks.
“Why?” A touch of cockiness in Harrison’s voice.
“I just need to know if I should be afraid.”
“That’s why we’re friends, Maude. Most adults would lead with aren’t you supposed to be in school.”
Maude puts on a pair of extended lenses, “Why ask the obvious?”
Harrison admits, “I did not build this.”
“Looks like your craftsmanship,” Maude observes, “It’s a real humdinger.”
“Well, so far, it neither hums nor dings. That’s why it’s on your counter.”
“I’ve never seen this technology, though,” she says with a hint of concern, “Did you - find this?”
Harrison takes a beat, “I take it from the dramatic pause that by find, you mean steal.”
“None of my business.”
“It’s a birthday gift,” Harrison guesses or lies.
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Can’t find a power source, or for that matter a seam to attempt to take it apart.”
“It’s indestructible?” Harrison asks.
“I didn’t say that. I’m sure you’d find the seam if you took a baseball bat to it,”
Maude upturns one of the creature’s front legs, “Then there’s this.”
Maude reveals what appears to be a serial number etched into the material: V0Go-174Z. She continues.
“Thought I’d worked on everything. Everything. Never seen anything that begins with V0Go.”
Everest chimes in with a “So?” Maude, startled, retorts “It speaks!” Harrison answers for her, “Serial number tells us where it came from, Ev. Like a signature.” And then, his attention throws back to Maude, “Is it foreign? Maybe Chinese?”
“Couldn’t say,” Maude scratches her temple with a screwdriver, “More advanced tech than anything I’ve handled. And it’s incomplete. See? Something is supposed to go right here.” She motions to an empty space on the object’s belly.
“Not -“ something paranoid in Harrison’s tone, “Russian?”
“This was an expensive effort. Possibly military.”
“That could explain what we heard.”
This peaks Maude’s interest, “Out of this?”
“Like a radio frequency,” Harrison explains, “But, not music. Someone talking.”
Everest hesitates, but then offers, “Well - there was some music.” Both Harrison and Maude give Everest their full attention for the first time.
Harrison entreats, “What are you talking about?”
Everest takes his first steps away from the door and toward the conversation at hand, “That’s how I found it. When I woke up, it was playing a song under my bed... “
Maude looks at Harrison with growing concern, “How did this get under his bed?” Undeterred, Everest begins to softly sing,
Look out kid - they keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole, light yourself a candle
Everest stops cold. His memory has not failed him - he is taken aback rather by the same stirring inside. Merely singing this song - not hearing it, but instigating it is like battery acid mixed with clarity. A distinct shock to the persistent numbness.
Everest is stumped into a beat of frustrated silence, then Harrison finishes the refrain, “Don't wear sandals. Try to avoid the scandals. That’s Subterranean Homesick Blues.”
Everest responds with an instinctive “Who?”
Maude shakes out of her stupor, “Who?! Harry, what kind of kid did you drag into my store?”
With slightly more grace for his brother’s ignorance, Harrison fills in the missing information, “Everest, you’re singing Bob Dylan.”
Maude sets the gadget down, “This is just weird.”
Harrison implores, “Weird or not, we can’t get it to work.”
She stumbles over to her Tandy 3000 HD and begins clacking away with her thick fingers, “What’s your address and phone number?”
The green pixelated cursor on the screen blinks on as Harrison is generous with the information - until Everest slams on the brakes, “Wait! Why?!”
Maude answers matter-of-fact, “I can’t search the computer’s archive for information until I fill out a request, honey. You want to ask a question - I have to tell them who’s asking.”
Everest is practically in a panic, “Just - just STOP. Harrison! Father will absolutely…"
Harrison turns to Everest, more than done with his brother’s paranoia, “Ev - why don’t you wait outside?”
Everest rocks slowly on the park bench outside the library, attempting to mimic the solo from the Bob Dylan song on his harmonica. The darkest rainclouds peeking over the lip of the Phillips 66 billboard on the north end of the courtyard are roiling now. The leaves on the trees are inverted, a certain sign of the approaching storm. Everest watches loiterers scurry for shelter into the Muffin Express, which is a nonsense name because you can’t hurry the baking of a muffin. Everest rolls his eyes for the benefit of no one. He hopes Harrison hurries as the afternoon is swiftly wearing on. He can feel it coming now. The slow burn of panic. Every disquieting anxiety is a pesky gnat and Everest knows that, in short order, he could be enveloped by a swarm of them. Everest thinks he can keep it at bay - or at least keep the surrounding public from noticing, but he will have to focus very hard. This hasn’t happened since the Fontaine. Everest puts the harmonica away and pulls the postcard from his back pocket. He lingers on the serene image of a corn field leaning in the breeze. Indiana, the thought of the beautiful girl who gave this to him rushes into his head (he doesn’t actually know her name). Indiana, like a mantra. Indiana, like a plea for rescue. And then - a drop of blood.
Surprised at the blemish on his prized item, Everest opens his right palm. A spot of red is widening on the bandage around his hand. Well - that isn’t right. Everest bites at the gauze and begins to unwrap it. Instinctively, he darts a look every direction to make certain no one notices. Especially Harrison. No one can know what really happened - what actually happened at the Fontaine.
The stately woman wore a severe hat and a mink stole wrapped around her shoulders. The kind of fur that hasn’t been fashionable for a decade but makes a statement of wealth. The hostess was attempting to keep the situation from becoming a situation as the stately woman stirred the pot, turning disappointment into accusation and with a look on her face that insisted something more troubling than impatience was brewing underneath. All the while, Everest’s eyes locked onto the fur around her shoulders. As it ruffled in the early October breeze, it almost seemed…no. It’s not possible. The fur was - alive - nuzzling the woman’s ear, caressing it.
Now, Everest knew he was seeing things. Not a full-blown hallucination, but certainly jumping to an extreme conclusion when the culprit was more than likely the gust of air conditioning coming from inside. Everest attempted to look away when the stately woman’s words began to grow more fierce, beyond the opinions of ugly privilege and into the realm of verbal abuse, berating the hostess. This behavior wasn’t exactly new around here. The color of the hostess’ skin alone was enough for the ignorant to treat her with unkindness - but the words out of this older woman’s mouth were something more terrible than even that. Everyone was staring at the scene now, the stately woman moving into cruel epithets and Father whispering as an aside “About time someone puts them in their place,” which made Harrison’s grip on Everest’s hand tighten painfully. Some patrons were mortified, others uncomfortable, still others entertained - but none of them took action. Everest realized that he may be the only one actually taking full notice of the horror in play.
The fur around that woman’s neck was definitely whispering in her ear.
With the filthiest, cruelest eyes Everest had ever seen. Eyes that would certainly invade nightmares, if Everest were prone to have a second one. The moment Everest saw it - that hideous thing - he leapt to his feet, his chair knocked backwards and causing the surrounding gawkers to gasp. Too many things happened at once. Mother breathed in the martini she had been sipping and began to choke and sputter. Father began to softly curse at Everest and threaten a bullet-point list of what would be done to Everest if he became an embarrassment on Father’s special night. Harrison grabbed Everest’s hand less as a show of support and more as the capture of an escaping balloon. But, Everest noticed none of it, because his forehead had burst into a torrent, this hallucination far too real. The stately woman was startled by Everest’s sudden movement enough to halt the abuse of the hostess for the briefest of inhales. Her eyes met Everest’s and the entire gathering swelled with tension. She stared at Everest with the venom of a superior questioning how dare one interfere with such grown-up business. But, Everest was not meeting her gaze, for his stare was locked onto the eyes of the thing around her neck. Slowly - meticulously - the creature looked up at Everest - and grinned. The unsettling smile of one who knows they are getting away with it. Baring hooked fangs like that of a cobra, it seized back and dug razor-sharp teeth deep into the stately woman’s shoulder.
The woman shrieked - but not as a human in pain - she instead writhed with vile histrionics, spewing humiliation toward the hostess and all her “people” and rearing her arm back, fist balled. It was as if her rage was fueled by what the atrocity was doing to her, but she was otherwise unaware of its existence. This was too much for Everest and he lunged absentmindedly toward her, enough to stun her backward, tripping over the leg of the hostess’ dais and capsizing an approaching waiter face-first into his tray of hors d'oeuvres. A ramekin of piping hot clam chowder showered down upon the woman, the shock of it all allowing her the smallest redirect: a nanosecond of clarity to regain whatever meager wits she might have had on a better day. At this, the thing was forced to release it’s fangs from her neck and Everest quickly seized it, wrestling the monstrosity as it lunged teeth-bared within an inch of Everest’s left eye. The room was aghast. At least two tables were toppled, a small mob of those with weak constitution fled in gossip-fueled terror. For the first time in his remembered life, Everest was unafraid of Father’s coming retribution. He was boiling with adrenaline now, all-in on the destruction of this abhorrence he throttled between his clenched hands. It began to wrap its furry sinews around Everest’s wrists, squeezing tighter - near unbearable pain - Everest felt as if his bones would splinter. He collapsed to the grass in agony, rolling over in an attempt to suffocate the damned thing into the dirt. As he rolled, Mother cried out “Everest! The fire pit!” She meant it as a danger to avoid, but Everest understood it as a means of defense.
He eyed the hot embers and blue flame and made a mad scramble for the edge of the pit. The abomination in his clutches realized what Everest was doing and let out a hiss and a maddening high-pitched squeal as Everest plunged the thing into the fire. The furry terror convulsed and shrieked so hideously that Everest’s ears began to give out. Muted silence, followed by an incessant ringing. The creature released its grip on Everest’s wrists and expanded into a body the shape of talons, eight - no ten - furred and clawed appendages, lashing out like a bear trap, writhing in terror upon death’s door. But, Everest did not release back. He knew he was in harm’s way for he felt the leather bracelet around his right wrist burn off, but he maintained his grip nonetheless and held that beast to the flame until he saw the wretched light slowly disappear from its eyes. The horror of its taut appendages collapsed into lifelessness, the air reeking with the smell of burnt living thing. Everest was hurled backward, someone having gripped him by the shoulders and pulled his body away from the smolder.
It was a moment before Everest could breathe again. Before sound returned. Before he realized that it was Harrison who had pulled him from the fire and was laying just underneath him, his bearings off. The adrenaline fading, Everest’s right hand began to pulse with excruciating pain. He thought even Father could not punish him for this moment. Too many people had witnessed his heroic actions. He lay, out of breath, and turned to face his brother, feeling for the first time strong. But, the next words out of Harrison’s mouth were not ones of encouragement, “Wipe that smile off your face before Father sees it.”
Within an hour, Everest had a completely different perspective. In a hospital room with a police guard at the door, his wrapped hand throbbed. Mother sat with him alone, clutching her Hermes Birkin handbag to her chest as if it were a rescued infant.
“Second-degree burns. This is my fault,” she said through heaving sobs.
“My actions are not your fault, Mother.”
“I forgot your injection,” she persisted, “That is my job. It would have kept you safe.” A tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand, smearing her Cover Girl fuchsia lipstick.
“Is that all I am to you?!” Everest argued, “Something to keep safe? How do you know I wouldn’t have saved that woman anyway?!”
“Saved?! Come on, Everest. The hostess can take care of herself. I’m sure she has to deal with angry customers…"
“Not that woman,” Everest was riled now, “The other woman. The terrible one. I saved the other woman.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you kidding? I ripped that beast from her throat!”
“Beast?” Mother was dumbfounded.
“And burnt it to a crisp. No thanks to anyone else,” Everest continued, “Nobody else lifted a finger, and I’m the one who has to explain this to the police?!”
“Oh, Everest. Oh dear.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m not. This isn’t…"
“Is this another one of your fantasies?” Mother doubted, “Like the world on fire - or the girl from Indiana?”
“Wait,” Everest was gobsmacked, “What - how did…"
“I didn’t realize it had come to this. I’m afraid we may need to increase your dosage.”
“NO!” Everest shouted in a panic, “You just couldn’t see it from where you were sitting! The mink fur - around her neck. It was alive. It was - it was whispering, and then it took it’s fangs…"
“What fur? What are you even saying, son? She wasn’t wearing a fur.”
“She - “ Everest choked on this thought, “but - then what was I holding to the fire?”
“Nothing, son. Absolutely nothing,” Mother said it with an unsuccessful attempt at hiding her disappointment, “Only your own hand.”
While in the hospital, Everest said very little for the next few days. He never had to discuss the matter with the police. Uncle Asthma had intervened and - in Father’s words, “…made the matter go away.” Of course, they will never be allowed to return to the Fontaine. Everest knew enough about Father to know that retribution was coming. He didn’t know how or when, only that it would be terrible. A doctor had to be brought in from another city to work on the burn - all the while, Father hovering. When Harrison was finally allowed in to see Everest, neither spoke. Everest couldn’t imagine what his twin must think of him now. Harrison simply walked to the bed and opened his hand with a calm “here.” In his palm was the charm that had been on the leather wrist bracelet Mother had given Everest for his eleventh birthday. The coin with a hole drilled through the center. Ornate on one side and the underbelly smooth. Harrison had fished it out of the ashes at the Fontaine.
As the week progressed, Everest didn’t know what to think. The pain had been tremendous, near unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the questions.
Everest felt great confusion, embarrassment and self-doubt. He considered telling Harrison why he had done what he did - the monster he was certain he had seen, but what would that accomplish other than making his twin believe he had lost his mind? He considered lying to his parents that he had made the whole charade up for attention. The punishment would be severe - but what else was new - and maybe the medication would not have to increase. The one thing Everest never considered - not even once - was to remove the bandage.
On the park bench outside the library, Everest scrambles to unravel the gauze. A burn doesn’t bleed. Does it? It doesn’t. Everest is both doubtful and certain. Harrison is emerging from the Radio Shack across the street, so there is very little time. The last strip of gauze is stuck, some of the blood dried. It hurts to peel it back - but as he does, Everest inhales sharply. Both from relief and terror. For there is no burn on his hand at all. No damage from holding his hand to the fire. Only the bleeding reopened wound of a terrible bite from the fangs of a monstrosity that no one else could see.
What?! Everest’s imaginations race, It - that thing was REAL?! Why couldn’t anyone else see it? And how am I not burned? A beat. Another thought, this one far more troubling, And why did Father lie?
“Get out of the rain, moron!” Harrison shouts as he dodges traffic and runs toward Everest.
Everest had not realized the downpour. He rewraps his hand in the soiled bandage, covering the wound just as Harrison approaches.
“What are you doing? You’re soaked.” Everest musters no excuse, so his brother sighs. This is not new territory, “Come on. Let’s wait out the storm in the library.”
But, Everest won’t have it, “I want to go home.”
Harrison interjects, “Ev, there is no way that we’re walking home in this…"
Everest persists, “Right now.”
The deluge comes down in buckets the entire trudge home. Filthy and soaked, the two enter the house through the mud room in the back. The Grand Horizon looks especially ominous in this weather, looming over the backyard like a disapproving parent. It is quarter after four now, the hike having taken considerably longer as the twins evaded shortcuts in flooding fields in favor of trails through the higher ground of the wood. Harrison could have sprinted and made it back in fifteen minutes, but they both knew Everest could never keep up. At least Harrison had his baseball cap to keep his head dry. Not a word was spoken the entire journey, in part because of the hurry and the howl of wind, but also due to the state of Harrison’s frustration with his brother.
Harrison shakes the water off of his backpack, pulling a Radio Shack bag from inside and emptying its contents onto the kitchen table. The rabbit dog is dry, as are the several components and whatnots Harrison purchased while Everest waited. The same cannot be said of the boys, who shiver as the air conditioning attacks. “Sorry,” Everest mutters like a punished pet. His back to him, Harrison’s shoulders insinuate an exasperated sigh. “Look,” Harrison ekes out, “I get it. I know you have these moments, but sometimes…" Harrison leaves it at that, then kicks off his muddy Adidas sneakers. “I’ll shower first.” He leaves a trail of mud and wet clothes as he exits the room.
After a lengthy hot shower of his own, Everest emerges into the living room in fresh clothes. He now wears a play-on-words t-shirt from his favorite movie. It says Yippe-ki-yay, Mother Father! The passive-aggressive double entendre of it brings Everest satisfaction on several levels. Harrison is pulling tools out of his backpack and tightening screws on a handheld device he has assembled himself. Harrison is wearing a completely new ensemble of clothes, but he persists in wearing the damp ball cap.
Everest extends an olive branch of a question, “Is that a remote for the thing?”
Harrison looks up with a half smile. He appreciates Everest changing the subject and moving on from the tension. “The V0Go? No. There doesn’t seem to be a remote.”
Everest picks up the rabbit dog, “You’re calling it V0Go?”
Harrison shrugs a “why not” as he turns on the device in his hands, red lights flickering and a meter swaying with static. “I really need duct tape. There’s none in the garage. Maybe there’s some in Mother’s scrapbooking closet?”
Everest overreacts, “That closet is off-limits.”
Harrison gives him the eye. The eye that says can you stop being the obedience police for ten seconds?
Everest gets the hint and changes the subject, looking the creature in the eyes, “What did Maude say about the rabbit?”
Harrison responds, “V0Go. And it’s not a rabbit. Or - they’re not supposed to be rabbit ears. Maude said they’re antennae. This thing is like a military-grade HAM radio, but impossibly small.”
Everest thinks to himself under my bed? but actually says “What does that mean?”
Preoccupied with the beeps and bloops emanating from his handheld doodad, Harrison persists, “It means that if we can locate a strong signal, we will hear whoever is on the other end. That’s why,” he holds up the handheld, “we have this.”
Harrison tweaks knobs and settings on the homemade device as a needled meter on its face wobbles back and forth. Everest stands with the creature in his arms, “We should hide all of this. Mother and Father should be back any…" And sound emanates from the thing once again: static growing and slight syllables of words. Harrison shows Everest the face of the remote device. “It’s trying to communicate. We want the needle to land in this red area.” Everest, skeptical, concludes that’s a really small area. Harrison urges, “You said it played a song - in your bedroom?” They hurry to Everest’s room and the signal improves. Harrison roams the room with the meter, “Over here. It’s strongest over here.” Everest moves to the wall by the window, “Is it in the red?” Harrison, frustrated, “Closer - but no.” And then a word - a faint, garbled but distinct word from the belly of the creature: backyard. They stare slack-jawed at one another, “How does it…" Then, BOOM. Thunder too close. A flicker and the power goes out.
Everest attempts to keep up with Harrison, still cradling V0Go as they venture toward the backyard fence, “What are we doing? I just showered - and Mother and Father…" Harrison wheels on his brother, his swinging backpack smacking Everest in the arm, “Would you just stop it with all the Mother and Father?! It’s barely raining now. I mean, we’re fifteen, Ev! This is - this is SOMETHING, don’t you think?!” Everest sighs, exasperated and invigorated at the same time. He cannot deny, It is something. His eyes, his meager nod, acquiesce to his brother. This will have consequences, but how could they not keep on? Standing in the approaching dark of overcast dusk, in the shadow of the backyard fence with no power and no light coming from the house, the needle hovers on the cusp of red. Amid softening static, the voice emanating from V0Go speaks more clearly, The Grand Horizon. And you really need to hurry.
Despite much protesting from Everest, the two hop the fence - Harrison on his own after hoisting Everest and throwing his backpack of tools over. Neither have ever been back here, the grounds overgrown and every square inch of the plot teeming with imminent collapse. From where they stand, they have a decent view of the back of their own house and a few of the neighbors. Without considering the ramifications, Harrison notices that the Manning home is the only one on the block that has lost power.
Everest leans his hands onto his knees to take slow breaths in an attempt to calm the exhaustion and the growing anxiety. He realizes that it is now likely five o’clock, exactly when Mother and Father said they would return. This is enough of a stress for Everest to feel physical pressure on his chest - the elephant that sits on him when circumstances exceed the label of overwhelming. Harrison whispers, “Everest.” He looks up as Harrison shows him the device, “We’re in the red.” The lights in V0Go’s eyes are piercing now, full signal. It’s static has given way to a soft hum insinuating whoever is on the other end awaits conversation. Everest intakes a gasp of oxygen and engages, “Can you hear us?” And V0Go says the one thing that neither could have expected: their names.
Everest, Harrison - it’s important that you trust me now.
Harrison is wild-eyed, “What the actual hell?”
As Harrison seizes the creature from his brother, the voice implores them, There is a perimeter alarm tripwire eleven yards due west. Careful stepping over it. Especially you, Everest.
Offended, Everest double-takes to his brother, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”
You know, continues V0Go, because you’re bad at sports.
Harrison looks into the sky as if answers will fall like satellite shrapnel, “How could you possibly know that?!”
V0Go is urgent but clear, Pay attention. There isn’t much time. You will have to step over it carefully to get inside the Grand Horizon.
Everest reacts, “Inside?! We’re not going in there! It’s condemned.”
There is a beat of silence before V0Go responds, You sure about that, Ev?
Everest tentatively eases eleven yards across the wild lawn and inches his way toward the ground. There, indeed, is a tripwire attached to the fence. A device at its connection point that blinks green. Bewildered, he looks up at Harrison. All doubts are gone. The voice on the other end of this thing knows much more than they do.
In a single decision that would prove to have enormous and remarkable repercussions on their lives, the twins walk toward the hotel.
Led by the needle in the red, Harrison kicks down a boarded door at the Service Entrance on the east side of the Grand Horizon. A cobwebbed hallway ending in a doorless archway. It is musty and hot, large specks of dust floating amid the decrepit mausoleum of a room. This will be just fantastic for Everest’s allergies. Harrison reaches into his backpack and unearths a flashlight, directing its beam into the crevices of the empty space. Everest tries to call out the irony, “Didn’t realize you were in the Boy Scouts.” Even in crisis, Harrison has a solid comeback, “Actually consider myself more of a Goonie.”
They wander down the hallway, emerging in a grand entryway, at least five stories high with two fogged glass elevators on either side that were certainly once glorious but currently give off a deathtrap vibe. An enormous chandelier creaks and sways lightly overhead as if somewhere up high a strong draft is invading the cavernous space. The centerpiece of the entryway is a stone fountain at least thirty feet in diameter and a story tall. No water flows, but the statue atop it is a hulking stone rendering of a monstrosity of a man, all sinew and muscle. He is neither human nor friendly. His eyes are wide open in a stare, for which Everest is not grateful. It’s quite terrifying and what many would call “off brand” for a family hotel. Harrison speaks to the dog, “Okay, we’re inside. Now, who are you and how do you know…" V0Go interrupts, There isn’t time. I need to show you something. Take the stairs to four.
The stairwell opens on the fourth floor to another abandoned hallway. The twins emerge from the several-story climb, Harrison ramped up with adrenaline and Everest gasping, bracing for his lungs to pop. As Harrison tosses the beam of light hither and yon, Everest notices the peeling wallpaper has small family crests within its design. A peculiar choice. Harrison urges, “What now, V0Go?” The thing is silent. But, Everest notices. At the end of the hallway - even though the hotel is supposed to be abandoned - an electric light underneath a closed door.
Hesitant, they slowly urge the door open - and as their eyes become accustomed to the light, their collective breath is taken away.
Inside, a large bank of surveillance equipment. Recording devices and charts. Maps and files. Stacks of monitors with camera feeds incoming. The room is alive with technology and information but otherwise vacant of people. Harrison steps toward the monitors and studies them, “Everest,” he says. But, Everest is distracted by a box marked October/November. It is open and inside are rows upon rows of syringes. Harrison continues, “Everest - do you see this?” But, Everest does not see what is on the monitors because Everest is too busy trying to make sense of why this box in this room in this abandoned hotel is filled with the injections his Mother has been giving him every day.
“Everest,” Harrison states more urgently, “That is your room.” This detail indeed draws Everest’s attention and he approaches the monitors, still cradling V0Go. Sure enough, each monitor reveals a lone camera’s perspective on a room in their house. The one in question reveals Everest’s bedroom from a high shelf angle. V0Go finally speaks, This is the only way you would believe me. Harrison chokes his words out, “Okay - we believe you. Now - explain this.”
V0Go interjects, I’m afraid there’s no time for that now. Look at the third monitor, top row. They do - and it reveals a new wrinkle in this already complicated birthday.
Three individuals, faces masked, are inside the Manning home, stealthily maneuvering room-by-room. Each with a weapon at the ready for the kill. Harrison and Everest stare - unable to say a word, unable to breathe. It is V0Go who breaks the silence.
When they realize you’re not there, they’ll come back here.
And then it’s gonna be a real shit storm.
Next: Read "EVEREST & THE EXCEPTIONS" Chapter Three PREVIEW: the horrific and thrilling continuation of Mark Steele’s upcoming fictional novel coming in October 2024.